


My Sweetheart When a Boy

by nerdyscully (dalecooperscoffee)



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Artistic Liberties, Eventual Smut, Family Angst, Love Letters, M/M, Secret Relationship, because I love their dynamic, lots of Gob and Lindsay bonding, piano!Gob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalecooperscoffee/pseuds/nerdyscully
Summary: In London, England, in 1895, Lindsay Bluth is being courted by all the high-society men and is expected to be married soon. One man in particular, Tony, catches the attention of her brother Gob. A Blunder Victorian AU, because I had to write it at some point.





	1. Ten Minutes Ago, I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i'm a little nervous posting this, not sure why. it's another big project i'm taking on and i hope that i can see it to its end. i am very proud of this first chapter, though. :) the title comes from an old victorian parlor song--if you look up the lyrics they are unintentionally very gay. also, i guarantee some things in this fic _will_ be historically inaccurate and i will take artistic liberties with it. i promise not to do anything too outlandish, though, and i hope you can all enjoy this. <3

George Oscar Bluth II had to admit it to himself—he loved balls. Everything about them was so remarkable and exhilarating, and even though he had been to so many, they never got old. He loved the musicians—the violinists all in the same suits, all drawing their bows at the same time, the pianist whose fingers flew across the keys with no mistakes. Of course, he loved the girls in their gowns of various expensive fabrics, which became flurries of color as they waltzed across the floor. No one was dancing at the moment, though. Instead of watching everyone glide across the floor, he was watching a line of men form in front of his sister, Lindsay, and his mother Lucille.

It was his younger sister’s debut—she was now eligible to be courted and married. George Oscar couldn’t count how many men there were now, waiting to be introduced to Lindsay. If you stared at them too long, they turned into a blurry mess of black and white suits and pale skin—it was nearing summer, but none of these men were working outdoors, so they wouldn’t dare have a tan. For what it was worth, some of the men were much more handsome than others, in George Oscar’s opinion, and some looked much too old to be even thinking about marrying Lindsay.

He was taken out of his thoughts when his younger brother, Michael, leaned in to ask, “Remind me, why did we have to attend this again?”

“I suppose it’s customary, isn’t it?” he replied, “And we can’t just let any man marry Lindsay.”

“I do not think our opinion matters as much as you believe it does.”

“It matters to me,” George Oscar decided, and that was good enough for him. “Buster didn’t have to come.”

“Buster could never handle an event like this,” his brother said. “Besides, he’s young and would find this dreadful.”

“ _I_ find this dreadful. I want to dance.”

“Well, this isn’t your ball, Gob,” Michael replied. George Oscar was never actually called that by his family, rather, they not-so-affectionately adopted the name Gob for him when he was young. Gob supposed he could make some parallels to his life and the life of Job in the Bible, since they had the same name, but he found that book terribly boring and never finished it, despite being expected to.

Gob never quite did what he was expected to do, though.

He continued to watch the men go through the motions in an orderly fashion. They would shake hands with Lindsay, who would curtsey, then their mother, and they would share a few pleasantries before going on to shake hands with George Sr., their father. He looked like he was having as much fun as Gob and Michael; that is to say, none at all. He would often ask the men what their profession was, or where they had studied. He did not seem impressed by any of them, until a man named Tobias Funke ( _What an ugly last name,_ Gob thought) came to him and said he was studying to become a doctor. Though George Sr. didn’t quite smile, his eyebrow raised in an expression Gob knew indicated approval—not that he had ever received it. Tobias, apparently very enthusiastic, moved on to introduce himself to both brothers. This was a first, as most men had ignored them during the shuffle of things.

“Evening, good sirs,” he said, shaking Gob’s hand with such force he nearly pulled the damn thing out of its socket. “You must be the lovely lady’s brothers.”

“Yes, I’m Go—George Oscar Bluth II,” the name sounded foreign and bitter on his tongue. He always wondered how his family could name him after his father even though his father hated him from the moment he came into the world. “Lindsay’s eldest brother.”

“I can only hope to follow your examples on how to treat Lindsay,” Tobias said with a wide grin. Gob attempted a smile back, but felt strange. _He wants to treat her like a brother?_ He thought. And wasn’t he getting ahead of himself? He was acting as if him and Lindsay were already betrothed. It took everything in Gob to keep himself from laughing.

When Tobias finally left, it was back to standing stiffly alongside his brother and father, occasionally greeting more men as they passed by. They were getting down to the last few when one man actually caught Gob’s eye.

Gob knew he liked men romantically and sexually when he was a teenager. The first man he found himself lovestruck for was his piano tutor, Alexander. He was a man in his early twenties who was an absolute master at the instrument despite his young age. His tutor had curly dark hair and was shorter than Gob, and he was betrothed. Gob never told him about his feelings, because they were still very confusing and scary for him, and he knew no one would react well. It was the kind of infatuation he had read about but never experienced until then. He still thought about Alexander now and then, wondering where he had moved to after getting married. There had been a few men along the way to Gob’s twenties, but mostly, they were nothing more but whispers in his ear in pubs and hands sneaking under layers of clothing. They didn’t last more than a night, and Gob never thought it would be any different.

The man he was looking at now was the first man that he found remarkable all night. His hair was obviously slicked back, but a few locks were starting to fall in front of his face. He was shorter than Lindsay. That meant he was automatically off the list of possible suitors after this ball; Gob knew how she felt about short men, but Gob found it endearing. His smile was confident and unwavering, but as he walked away from Lindsay and Lucille, Gob could see the uncertainty and nervousness in his step.

Gob leaned in ever so slightly to hear his conversation with George Sr. “Good evening, I’m Anthony Wunderlich,” he said.

“Anthony. What is your profession?” He asked, and Gob was surprised he didn’t turn Anthony away simply for the foreign sounding surname.

“I work for my family’s business, sir.”

“What business is your family in?”

“They’re, ah, bakers, sir.”

Michael, also eavesdropping, looked at Gob with confusion. How was a _baker_ at this debutante ball? Gob was confused as well, but it simply made Anthony more intriguing to him. Once done with George Sr., he shook Michael’s hand, introducing himself again, and then Gob’s. “Hello,” Gob said, shaking Anthony’s hand (which was a bit clammy) with an earnest enthusiasm. “I’m Lindsay’s eldest brother. George Oscar.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Anthony said, “Anthony Wunderlich. That’s a very nice suit.”

“Thank you, it was 500 pounds,” he said matter-of-factly. Michael kicked the back of his leg. “Ow!”

“Don’t talk about the price of your _suit_ at a _ball_ ,” he hissed, as if Anthony couldn’t hear. Gob was worried he had ruined his first impression, but Anthony’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

“I hope to see you later tonight,” Gob said hurriedly, trying to right his wrongs.

“As do I.”

Thankfully, after Anthony left them, there were only a few men left to meet, and then it was time for dancing. Dancing was not customary at all debutante balls, but Lindsay absolutely _insisted_ on it; much like her brother, she loved balls and everything about them. She promised Gob that she would dance with him first, so it wasn’t long before he saw her coming his way.

They were an odd pair. They fought and played jokes on each other, like was typical for siblings. She often called him stupid and he often called her selfish, but at the end of the day, they could make each other laugh and even tell each other a few of their secrets. Not extraordinarily big ones, like Gob being in love with his piano tutor, but little ones that didn’t matter as much. They joked, sometimes, that they got along because they both had more imagination than Michael, and liked to tease him for it. Of course, it drove him crazy.

“Hello, Mr. Bluth,” Lindsay said, smiling genuinely for the first time all night.

“Hello,” Gob replied, getting in the waltz position and leading in the dance once the music started. “How did everything turn out?”

She rolled her eyes. “All the men are…fine, I presume.”

“You presume?”

“I can’t make a judgement on them after thirty seconds of standard conversation.”

“Hm, interesting,” Gob said, effortlessly twirling his sister around the floor, “You make judgements on people based on nothing plenty often.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Not when it comes to the man I have to _marry_.”

“There’s not one man that you happened to like?”

“I suppose I liked Tobias. He was studying to become a doctor. Also, mother seemed to dislike him.”

“And that’s just more reason to like him.”

“ _Exactly!_ ”

“What about that…Anthony, I believe his name was?” Gob asked, as if he didn’t remember Anthony’s name at all. He was a good liar.

“Oh. I didn’t think much of him. He was so _short_. Why would I want to marry a short man?”

“You _are_ judgmental.”

“No, I just have high standards, and why shouldn’t I?” She said.

He had to admit she had a point. Gob had been dodging questions of when he was going to settle down and court a woman with the intention to marry her for a few years now. Lindsay was always telling him he, as a man, had it easy, because no one was going to call _him_ an old maid if he turned 30 without a wife. He usually brushed it off, but if he thought about it hard enough, she was right. He didn’t _want_ to settle down, was the thing. He had courted many women, and it was amusing at first, but it got old quickly. The thought of growing old with one woman and providing for a family of who knows how many children got under his skin. He knew he wasn’t the pride of his family and never was. They wouldn’t mind if he never reproduced.

When the song concluded, the siblings curtseyed and bowed to each other before Lindsay went off to find one of the bachelors to dance with. Gob went the opposite way, in search of wine. On his way, he ran into Tobias, much to his displeasure. “Ah! George Oscar Bluth II!” he greeted him, “We meet again!”

Gob winced. “Hello,” he said through gritted teeth. “My sister is over there, and I don’t believe she has anyone to dance with.”

Tobias’ eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together. “I will go to her immediately. Thank you!” He made a beeline for Lindsay and Gob, thankfully, was able to get to some wine. He ran into another man he had seen previously, but unlike Tobias, he was happy to see him. “Anthony. Not fighting for my sister’s attention?”

He chuckled and raised his mostly empty glass in greeting. “Not now. Perhaps later, so I can leave a lasting impression…or something to that affect.”

Gob smirked. Something told him that Anthony was as excited to be here as he was; that is to say, not at all. Though the wine was certainly an advantage. “She’s occupied with a suitor right now, so I suppose you’ll have to wait a bit.”

“Not a problem. I’m a patient man—I have sisters of my own, and I spend so much time waiting on them.”

“Oh, have they had their coming out?”

Anthony laughed a little. “What, are you eager to find a wife? No. My family—actually, it’s not important.”

Gob could’ve pressed him on the last part of his sentence, but he was more focused on Anthony’s first comment. “No, I’m not _eager_. I was simply curious.”

“Is it rude to ask your age? Older than your sister, I assume.”

“Five-and-twenty.”

“Oh, the same as me!”

For some reason, having something in common with Anthony delighted Gob more than anything else that night. “Incredible!” He exclaimed, though it wasn’t, really. Half the men there were the same age of them.

“Indeed!” Anthony said. “I really can’t believe you aren’t courting a girl at the moment. Unless you are?”

He shook his head, finding no reason to lie. Sometimes, he would lie, to other men he socialized with, and tell them that there were numerous girls fighting for his attention. He would show them that he was a desirable, virile man. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps because other men always seemed to have things going for them, he certainly should as well.

He didn’t feel the need to lie around Anthony though. It was strange.

“I’m sure the right girl will come along,” Anthony said, “I mean, look at all your family has. Not—Not that that’s all love is about—”

Gob chuckled. “These days, and with a family like mine? Love doesn’t even exist to us. Hm, I suppose I’m not making you want to marry my sister.”

“Perhaps I can change her mind,” he said, but didn’t carry nearly as much enthusiasm in his voice as Tobias or any of the other suitors Gob had spoken to.

“It’s possible.” He knew in the end that Lindsay would choose the man that angered their parents the most. Anthony would have to succeed in that, and it would take quite a lot of work. Gob noticed him looking at the dancing couples with an indecipherable expression on his face. Maybe it was hesitant, maybe he hadn’t been to many of these parties, maybe he was nervous. Gob placed a hand on his back reassuringly. “Don’t look so nervous! The women are gorgeous, yes, but I’m sure you can find someone to dance with?”

“Oh, I…I’m not nervous. I was just looking for where I could…get another drink.”

“Me as well! Let’s go find one together?”

Anthony looked more relaxed. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

Throughout the night, Gob danced with several of Lindsay’s female guests, but spent most of his time conversing with Anthony. They found that they had many things in common, like their love of wine and magician Harry Houdini, who Gob had seen perform once. Anthony looked incredibly jealous of that. “I don’t tell people this often, but I’d like to be an illusionist like him,” he confessed to Gob, who felt a small surge of pride at being told this secret.

As the party was thinning out, Anthony slipped a napkin which he had scribbled something on to Gob. “It’s my mailing address. Write to me if you wish.”

“I will! You can call upon me—ah, I mean, my sister, whenever you wish. I’m sure she would like that.” He put the napkin in the inside pocket of his jacket, and when he returned to his room in the Bluth manor, he placed it in the drawer of his bedside table, so a maid wouldn’t throw it away.

* * *

 

About a week later, Lindsay was absentmindedly cross-stitching in the drawing room, more focused on her brother playing piano. He was playing a piece by Chopin that he had been practicing for awhile now, but it had come together nicely. Lindsay herself played harp as a child and up into her teenage years, but she had fallen out of the habit as she had prepared for her coming out. Gob could never imagine abandoning piano. It was often the only thing that made sense to him when nothing else did. “Tobias called on me yesterday,” Lindsay said when he came to a pause in his playing.

“Oh, really?” Gob had gone into town that day, mostly to avoid everyone in his family. They had been getting under his skin, especially his mother.

“Yes. We spoke for a while—me, and him, and mother. He kept interrupting, which mother _hates_ , so I know for sure now she doesn’t want me to marry him. _Quelle surprise,_ ” she said dryly, setting her cross stitch down and staring at it with disdain.

Gob chuckled. “I’m not surprised. From the first moment I met him, I knew he wasn’t going to be mother’s favorite. What do _you_ think about him?”

“He’s fine.”

“That’s all?”

She made an apathetic gesture. “I don’t know much about him. He talks quite a lot, but doesn’t say anything. Like you.”

Gob scowled. “Don’t compare me to him. He’s insufferable.”

“And you don’t think you are sometimes too?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, picking up her stitching again.

Gob heard a knock on the door and the footsteps of Rose, their housekeeper, as she went to get it. There was murmuring in the foyer, his mother eventually joining the conversation, and Gob and Lindsay shared a questioning look. After a few moments, Rose came into the drawing room.

“Miss, a Mr. Anthony Wunderlich is here to call upon you.”

Gob didn’t know it, but his eyes lit up at the words.


	2. When I'm Not With You, Think of Me Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! apologies for the bit of wait when it came to updating. life got a bit busy with work, rehearsals, and family things. however i hope to update more regularly from now on. i hope you all are liking this fic, i received lots of nice comments on the first chapter and as always, they mean the world to me. inspiration for piano!gob comes from the one and only alex aka xlessxthanx3x <3

“I didn’t expect anyone to call on me today,” Lindsay said. “I’m surprised he didn’t speak to mother in advance. Still, he can come in.”

Anthony approached the drawing room with Lucille at his side, though she kept a certain distance from him. She didn’t seem impressed by his spontaneous appearance either. Their reactions didn’t matter to Gob, however. He was over the moon, not expecting to see Anthony again so soon. “Hello, Lindsay,” he said sheepishly.

“Hello,” Lindsay replied coolly, standing up to greet him properly. “Sit down—mother, can you ask Rose to make us some tea?” Lucille nodded and turned on her heel, but quickly turned back.

“Gob, why are you still here?”

“Well, I—”

“Let him stay, mother,” Lindsay said, “He can play piano for us. Right, Gob?” She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Oh, I suppose I could.” He knew Lindsay was worried he would embarrass her in front of one of her suitors, as brothers (and siblings in general, really) are apt to do. The piano, however, could fill any awkward silences that arose between the two of them. He wanted to talk to Anthony, too.

But then again, Anthony wasn’t _his_ suitor. He wasn’t trying to win Gob over. So, begrudgingly, Gob turned back to the keys of the piano and started quietly playing the Chopin piece again. Lindasy spoke quietly with Anthony about the weather and how their days had been, but his responses were short and curt. It wasn’t out of rudeness, though—Gob could tell by his voice that he was nervous. When Rose stepped in with a tray of refreshments, Gob noticed, out of the corner of his eye, his sister’s expression of relief. “Should we save some for Gob? There’s only two cups,” Tony commented.

Gob stopped playing and looked behind his shoulder. “No, it’s not necessary. I’m just here to play piano.”

“You’re not hungry? From…playing?”

Gob laughed. He was touched by Anthony’s worry; it wasn’t as if anyone in his family worried like this. “No, it’s not terribly strenuous. Only on the hands, but mine have been…well trained, I suppose.”

Anthony blushed, though Gob wasn’t sure what he had said to cause this. “Well, if you need something—” he began, but Lindsay cut him off.

“My brother will be fine, thank you, Anthony.”

He sat back in his chair, shifting uncomfortably. “I apologize.”

“Gob, will you play that Mozart piece I like?” Lindsay asked in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

He sighed. “I don’t _like_ Mozart.”

“Why?” Tony asked.

“He’s a dreadful bore, in my opinion.” He _knew_ he was putting Lindsay on edge the more he talked, but Gob wasn’t good at shutting his mouth, in every sense.

“Well, _in my opinion_ ,” she replied testily, “I enjoy his music and would like to hear some of it now.”

Gob made a great show of pulling out a piece of sheet music and sighed dramatically before beginning to play. He swore he heard Anthony chuckle. He tried to ignore the conversation his sister and her suitor had as he played. It wasn’t hard; they didn’t have much to talk about. Gob understood that, every time he tried courting a bachelorette, they very quickly ran out of things to talk about, or he ended up talking too much and making an ass out of himself somehow. At first, he thought it was because he hadn’t found the right woman, but when he experienced the excitement of touching a man for the first time, in the dark corner of a pub, everything clicked into place. He tried not to dwell on that too much; it would ruin his rendition of the piece if he did.

He was able to eavesdrop a bit throughout Anthony’s visit, and learned that he had _five_ siblings (Gob couldn’t handle three), and his parents were successful bakers, but he didn’t live with them and instead owned a cottage outside of town (“to prepare for married life, of course,” he had said), and went to work for them in the day. “I am studying business, however,” he added, “I just…oh you know, with a big family, it’s harder to do things that you want to do, if that makes sense.” Lindsay had only nodded coolly at this.

After barely an hour of this, Anthony stood up suddenly and smoothed out his clothes. “I suppose I should get going. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, so to speak. It—it was lovely speaking with you, Lindsay. I…hope to call on you again in the future.”

“Yes, but, ah,” she hesitated, but eventually just said what she meant clearly, “Please do write to me in order to make a prior arrangement first.”

Anthony turned a crimson color. His embarrassment was so evident Gob could nearly feel it himself. “I apologize for that.”

“It’s forgiven. Have a nice day, Mr. Wunderlich,” she said, standing up to escort him to the door. Gob slouched on the piano bench as it set in that he didn’t get to speak to Anthony much at all. As awkward as he had been at times, he was interesting (and that was a high compliment from Gob—he didn’t find people aside from himself interesting very often) and they had several things in common. To add onto matters, he was handsome, too. But Gob was not falling for one of his sister’s suitors. That would be self-sabotage—he simply acknowledged he was handsome, and he was certain they could be friends, and that was that.

When Lindsay returned, she nearly threw herself one of the chairs. “Good Lord. That was far too much work.”

“What, conversating with someone is _that_ bothersome for you?”

“I’m sure he’s very nice and will make a wonderful husband for someone, but _not_ for me. I told you that the first time I met him. And then he decides to show up uninvited. I wonder where he learned etiquette, _if_ he learned it at all. His parents are bakers, perhaps he’s not as rich as he lets on,” she poured another cup of tea for herself and one for Gob, who got up from the piano and nestled himself in a loveseat.

“You’re critiquing him rather harshly,” Gob said. Had he more self-awareness, he would know it was hypocritical of him to say, considering he criticized women he had attempted to court just as harshly, if not harsher.

“And? I’d hate to be stuck in a marriage like mother and father’s,” she said, slumping down further into her chair, not taking being ladylike into account. An uncomfortable moment passed between them, both of them realizing it was much more likely that they _would_ end up in a rather loveless marriage. Gob wasn’t sure if one could be a Bluth and have it any other way. “He’s nice, and perhaps we could be friends, at least.”

“We should visit his bakery sometime, maybe that will change your mind,” Gob joked, and thankfully got a laugh out of his sister.

“What’s funny?” Michael asked, meandering into the room. He had most likely been studying in his room while they were socializing—Michael was boring, according to Gob.

“Just talking about Lindsay’s suitors. When are you going to a court a woman, anyhow? Can’t find any that are interested in you?”

Michael scowled. “When I’ve finished my studies and gotten a job. Some of us put in effort around here.”

Gob decided to ignore his brother’s rude comments, being used to them after twenty-some years of life. “I just thought that with you and Lindsay being twins, you could have a joint wedding, or something of the sort.”

“ _No!_ ” Michael and Lindsay said at the same time, which was the answer he had been expecting.

“I still have my sights set on Tobias, anyhow,” Lindsay said. “He _is_ going to be a doctor.”

“Hmph. Anthony is much more handsome.”

Lindsay looked at her brother suspiciously. “I told you, I don’t like short men.”

Gob muttered something about Lindsay being a snob under his breath, and left the drawing room. All the conversation about courting was starting to make him feel inferior, for some reason.

* * *

 

After a week full of it, Gob had decided to get away from all the courting talk by visiting pubs with some of the men he had gone to school with when he was a teenager. However, all _they_ could talk about were things like apprenticeships and courting and the beautiful women they were planning to marry. Gob had masked his disappointment by downing as much liquor as he could. It had been a regrettable night all around, because when he came home in the wee hours of the morning, he was _still_ vomiting. He rarely ever got that drunk, and it took quite a lot to get him there. But the night had been so unbearable he was drinking everything in sight.

He woke far too early the next morning (well, it was technically the same day, since he had come home far past midnight) when Rose knocked on his door. “Sir, you’ve got a letter.”

“Just put it under the door, Rose,” he groaned, his head pounding.

“Of course. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Just a cup of coffee.”

Ten minutes later, Gob was forced to open his eyes when Rose brought him a tray with a pot of coffee and a cup. She poured him some and let him put the cream and sugar in, then handed him the letter. “It was still under the door. It’s from that boy that visited a while ago. Anthony.”

That woke him up more than the coffee ever could. “Thank you, Rose,” he said, “That’ll be all.”

“Come down when you’re feeling better,” she said. He appreciated her welcoming tone—he’d never hear it from his own mother. Though his eyes were still unadjusted to the light and just…being awake in general, he quickly tore the letter open and read it.

_~~George Oscar Bluth II~~ _

_~~Dear~~ _

_Gob,_

_Hopefully this letter isn’t too forward. I thought I would write to you, since the bakery is quite slow today and I’ve made more than enough bread. Lately, I’ve been thinking about you playing piano when I came to visit your sister. You’re incredibly talented, though I suppose you know that, and I wonder why you don’t become a famous pianist in a symphony? I know you find Mozart boring, and I thought all music of the sort was boring, until I heard you play it. I don’t believe your sister liked me very much, but I could have sat in the drawing room and listened to you play all day. I doubt I will be invited over again for tea—your sister and I don’t seem to be a good match, but I’ll write the address to the bakery, if you are interested in stopping by. If not, please disregard this letter; I promise my embarrassment will only be mild. I hope to see you in the near future._

_~~Fondly,~~ _

_~~Cordially,~~ _

_Sincerely,_

_Anthony Wunderlich_

_P.S. If you’d like, you can use the shortened version of my name—Tony. Everyone in my family calls me that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, comments always appreciated xoxoxoxo


	3. I Thought That I Didn't Care, I Thought That I Was Love-Impaired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone <3 apologies for taking so long to update. i was in a musical, and if you do theatre you know how busy and draining rehearsals and performances can be. on top of that, i had a job that was just as draining and kept me busy all day so i barely had any time to write. hopefully my update schedule will be a little more regular, because i've got a bit more free time now. i hope you all are still enjoying this fic, i really appreciate all the comments so far. i wrote most of this chapter in one sitting so i'm sorry for any typos or weird grammar stuff. to be honest, i worry a lot about this fic, because it's hard to keep it in-character but also historically accurate. hopefully you enjoy these gay idiots as much as i do, even in victorian england. <3

Tony sat behind the counter of his family’s bakery, making patterns in the flour on the counter with his finger. He wondered if Gob had received his letter—he had to have, because they didn’t live that far apart. It wouldn’t take that long to reach him. He was probably busy, though, being a part of a high society family. They didn’t have to do _work_ , like baking endless loaves of bread or counting funds at the end of the day, but they had to socialize so much and keep appearances. Tony, when he decided to enter the scene, had briefly wondered what he had gotten into.

He wasn’t from a wealthy family like the Bluths. In fact, his parents lived fairly modestly. They weren’t _poor_ , not by any means. Not anymore, at least. But they didn’t have a mansion, and growing up Tony slept in a room with two of his brothers. The idea of living that way his whole life started getting under his skin when he was a teenager, and that was when he decided to study business. He rarely told anyone he associated with too much about his family, just that they owned a bakery. He did not mention they were Jewish, or how small their house was. He worried that if people learned about this, they wouldn’t be interested in associating with him anymore, and his only hope to get out of such a dead-end life was to move up in society.

He felt guilty, though, for denouncing his family in the way he did. He was vague about his endeavors to his parents. They were proud of him for going to school, but he knew they wouldn’t approve of him courting a woman that they didn’t approve of (basically, any non-Jewish woman).  It seemed everywhere he turned, he was lying to someone, and he couldn’t get out of it. He knew, logically, by the end of this, he would’ve committed more wrongs than rights. He wasn’t sure if he could ever make any of this right.

He groaned and got a rag to clean up the spilled flour. His mind was wandering, and that was never a good thing. It led to self-loathing and self-doubting and all the other bad things that begin with the word _self_. He focused instead on making the counter so clean it sparkled, so intent on his goal that he barely noticed the bell ring when the door opened. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he mumbled under his breath out of habit.

“Alright,” a familiar voice replied, and Tony’s head shot up.

“Gob!” he exclaimed.

“That’s me,” Gob chuckled, and his eyes sparkled when he did. “I got your letter and thought I’d go into town to visit you.”

“That was kind of you,” he replied. “Do you need anything?”

“A conversation partner?” Gob said, the corner of his mouth quirking up invitingly. “I mean, if you’re not terribly occupied.”

“I think you can see I’m not,” Tony replied, wiping his hands on his apron. “How does this sound—I’ll go tell my sister I’m going out for a bit, and see if she can take my place while I’m away.”

“That sounds good,” Gob said. Tony told him to wait there, and walked through the back door of the bakery, which lead to his family’s home. Thankfully, his sister Angela was sitting in the drawing room, nose in a book.

“Angela,” he said, “Will you work at the bakery for a few hours? It’s really not that busy—barely had a customer in the past two hours.”

She looked at him with very little affection on her face. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Oh, into town,” he shrugged. Her brow furrowed.

“With _whom_?”

“A friend! For God’s sake, Angela, can you _please_ watch the shop for a little while?”

“Fine, fine. Who’s your friend?” she asked, grabbing an apron from the family’s kitchen and putting it on as she walked to the bakery with her brother.

“Gob—er, George Oscar Bluth II.”

“That’s me,” Gob smiled and waved at Angela, who looked at Tony with a smirk, as if to say ‘you didn’t tell me your friend was _handsome_ ’.

“Gob, this is my older sister, Angela,” Tony said.

“So pleased to meet you,” he said, kissing Angela’s hand. She smiled and curtseyed in response, all her anger towards her brother seemingly gone. “You look very much like Anthony; that is to say, very beautiful.”

Both brother and sister blushed—Angela, of course, because a man had just called her beautiful. Tony, because _did Gob just imply he found him to be good-looking_? He caught that train of thought before it could go much further, knowing Gob was likely strictly interested in women. “I suppose we should get going, Gob,” he said.

“Yes, let’s,” Gob smiled. “I hope our paths cross again, Angela.” She just giggled in response and waved as they left the shop. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” Gob said once they were outside, “I needed to get away.”

“From what?”

“Oh, you know…everything. Don’t you ever have that sort of feeling? Everything gets so overwhelming—family, social events, even friends can get under my skin with their constant talk of who’s courting who and who’s to be married,” he sighed, “I don’t know why it bothers me so much, maybe I just need a change in life.”

Tony nodded. Though he didn’t come from a family like Gob’s, it didn’t take him long to realize how _exhausting_ being a part of the upper class was. Even more exhausting when you were pretending to be someone you were not. “Well, if you really need a change, you could try to be poor,” he joked.

Gob stopped in his tracks. “Actually,” he replied, “I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” Tony laughed. “It’s not so much being rich, it’s just everything that comes with it. You must at least get tired of being a suitor sometimes, no?” They continued walking along the streets of London, the air filled with sounds of conversation and carriages bustling along the cobblestone streets.

He had to nod at that. “Yes. You have to worry an awful lot about what’s being thought about you. I’m sure you don’t worry much about that,” he chuckled, “You seem to do whatever you like.” If there were any sort of wavering confidence in Gob, Tony couldn’t see it.

“You know, I have an idea of what we should do. Let’s go to a pub.”

Tony’s eyes widened. Gob truly _did not_ care about what was thought of him. “A pub? In the middle of the afternoon? Are there even pubs open at this time?”

“Of course! You simply have to know where to look. Come, I’ll show you.”

It didn’t take them long to get from the bakery to the center of London, and with a few turns down a few alleys, Gob had proved Tony right. “You certainly know your way around,” he said, “It’s not becoming of a man to drink in the middle of the day, you know.”

“And yet, you’re coming along with me,” Gob gave him a crooked smile that made something catch in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was.

When they entered the pub, it was clear that many men were like Gob in that they didn’t care what was “becoming” of a man. It wasn’t full, but there were more than a handful of men standing by the bar and drinking. “Do you come here often?” Tony asked.

“Not every day, if that’s what you’re asking. But, like I said, I have to get away from everything now and then.” Gob wasted no time going up to the counter and ordering a gin sling. Tony ordered the same. This establishment didn’t seem like the kind of place where red wine was a frequent order. “Oh, I forgot to mention—thank you for the letter,” Gob said, leaning over and resting his elbows on the counter. “It was very kind, all those things you said about my piano playing? No one has spoken of me so highly, not even…not even women who I’ve attempted to court.”

“Oh, I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s said such things.” Their drinks were served, and Tony took a sip of his, finding it so strong and bitter that his eyes began to water.

“Truly, you are. I wouldn’t lie.”

“I asked this in my letter, but why don’t you become a concert pianist? You could play for symphonies. You could live the bachelor life forever and you’d be renowned all over England.”

Gob was already nearly done with his drink, taking big gulps instead of small sips. “I suppose it’s not that easy, and truthfully, I’ve never thought about it until you mentioned it. I’m flattered you think so highly of me, though.”

“I hope I’m not inflating your ego _too_ much,” Tony chuckled.

There was that crooked smile again, on Gob’s face. “If you are, I really don’t mind it.” A thought flitted across Tony’s mind that Gob was flirting with him again, like he had in the bakery. Maybe it was his own ego that was inflated. He pushed down those thoughts with a big gulp of his drink, squeezing his eyes as he saw stars behind them.

“You know, I feel like I don’t know very much about you,” Gob said as Tony came back to his senses. “Besides that, you work in a bakery, and want to marry my sister.”

“I believe the ship has sailed on marrying your sister.”

“Oh, come now. Who knows what will happen.”

Tony wanted to roll his eyes, but found himself appreciating Gob’s encouragement. “I suppose I don’t have much else to add. I study business, but I had to stop going to school for several months…my family needed help at the bakery around Christmas time.”

“They must depend on you quite a lot.”

He sighed. That was an understatement. “Yes, I suppose they do. And I suppose I should be grateful.”

“I don’t know. I’d get tired if I had to bake bread all day. I don’t even know how to, honestly.”

Tony laughed. Of course Gob didn’t know how to bake bread. He was growing weary of talking about his work, and decided there wasn’t enough alcohol in his system. “Can we order another drink?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Gob caught the attention of the bartender and ordered two more of the gin drinks. Tony didn’t really care for the taste of them, but he liked how warm they made him feel, and how he didn’t care what came out of his mouth when he drank them. So he sipped his drink, feeling the ground shift under his feet and his head begin to swim.

Their lips became looser, and they talked about everything and nothing, Gob whispering crude jokes in the other man’s ear and making him blush and snort with laughter at the same time. His face only got more heated when Gob began describing his exploits with women, in brothels and places not unlike the one they were in now. He had done things that Tony had only read of in books and even then, he had doubted if anyone had actually done them (could you really put your mouth on a woman’s--?). He felt inexperienced and small and very, very drunk all of a sudden. “Don’t you—don’t you worry someone will find out and your reputation will be completely soiled?” Tony asked.

“Oh, my family knows what I do. They don’t care if I marry or not. I’m a mistake, a stain on the family. They’ve said it. If I ever get in trouble with the law, they can pay to keep it quiet,” Gob spoke bluntly and emotionlessly, but Tony knew he would not be speaking about this if he was sober.

“I don’t think they should say such things to you, though. It’s not right to talk to your own child like that.”

Gob made a dismissive gesture of the hand. “You don’t know the half of it—and really, they’re right. Hm, I thought I was going to ask you about yourself, not the other way around.”

“Well, I’ve never…done half the things you have, I must admit,” he stared into his empty glass. “You’re simply full of surprises.”

“Or, there’s a possibility you’re hiding something from me,” Gob said with his nearly trademark lopsided smile on his face. “I suppose I’ll have to play Sherlock Holmes and figure it out.”

Tony laughed, thankful that the conversation was lightening. “Why don’t you simply ask me questions? It seems like that would require less effort than detective work.”

Gob seemed to mediate on a question, then asked, very directly, “Have you ever kissed another man?”

Tony’s throat closed up and his eyes widened. “Wh-why would you ask such a thing? You must be intoxicated, I—”

Gob quickly interrupted, saying, “I apologize, I didn’t intend to be…rude, I was just—I told you about all the things I had done, and—”

Tony felt a little silly with both of them talking over each other, but said, “No, no, it’s alright. I was just surprised you thought of something so…creative? Unexpected? I suppose?”

Gob looked relieved and sagged against the counter. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, I assume not.”

“When I was a teenager,” he said after a few moments, so softly he had to repeat it to Gob.

“O-oh.”

“It was…quite silly. We were only doing it because both of us wondered what it would be like to kiss a woman, so we figured that doing it with a man would be similar, just a bit rougher. Both of us were simply clueless. I’m not—”

“No, no, no, I know you’re not—but if you _were_ , I know men that are, and they’re quite alright. They’re not as bad as everyone says.”

“I suppose we’ve all met someone with those…proclivities, we just don’t know that we met them unless they tell us,” Tony felt frazzled, and like he wasn’t making any sense at all, but Gob nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, of course. Really, they’re humans, they’re not _demons_. And men kissing other men is really—it can’t be _that_ uncommon, I mean, even you—”

“Right, of course. Have you?”

“To be honest, yes. I did have quite a bit of alcohol in me at the time, though. It really wasn’t _that_ bad, I didn’t want to, you know, vomit afterward. You were right, it’s like kissing a woman, but rougher, isn’t it?” He was rambling, and his face was red. Tony was happy, in a way, that Gob’s confident air had disappeared, and he was just as nervous as him, even if that was a sick thing to be happy about. “And if they have a beard, it tickles, it’s quite funny, actually…”

_Ah_. Tony gathered that Gob had kissed more than one man. Did he prefer kissing men? Was that why he didn’t care about marriage to the point of being annoyed with talk of it? Tony was rarely right about his suspicions, but now that there was a chance he was correct…

“You know, we ought to get going home. We’ve been out for a long time, and my sister is going to be mad at me,” Tony decided.

Gob looked panicked again. “I apologize, again, if I said something wrong, I know I can be too forward sometimes, it’s a fault of mine—”

“Gob,” Tony placed a hand on his arm, and wondered if Gob felt the electricity in his touch, too. “Don’t fret over it. I had a wonderful time, and I’m glad we could be honest with each other. You make a good friend,” he was genuine in his words, but he internally winced at the word ‘ _friend_ ’, because it was such a safe, sterile word, even though it was what they needed right now after all of…that.

“Thank you,” Gob smiled in return. “I had a good time, as well. I think you and I are alike.”

“Me as well.”

On the walk back to the bakery, Tony tried to sober himself up as much as possible, breathing in the fresh air (that didn’t really smell fresh). “Can I ask a silly question?” Gob asked.

“Of course.”

“Would you kiss me?”

Tony had already established that Gob was good at catching him off-guard, and this only cemented it. “Ah, what a question.”

“You needn’t answer, if it’s too silly.”

He already knew his answer, of course. He just didn’t know if he should say it. “I suppose if I had enough of those gin slings in my system, yes.” He laughed, but it sounded unnatural.

“My answer is the same,” Gob replied, laughing awkwardly as well.

“Well, no one can say that we are not open-minded.”

“Of course. We’re modern-minded men.”

Tony then realized they had reached the bakery. “I’m a little scared to go in. Angela is going to be frustrated with me.”

“You can blame me, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t. Goodbye for now, Gob, I’ll call upon you again soon?” He reached out a hand, but he wasn’t sure what he meant to do with it. He couldn’t embrace Gob, and he _certainly_ couldn’t kiss him, so he settled for a stiff handshake.

“Call upon me, it almost sounds like you’re courting me,” Gob chuckled.

Oh _God_. That was just the cherry on top of this confusing outing. “I know how you hate courting, I wouldn’t put you through something so tedious.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If it were you, I don’t think I’d mind.”

They said goodbye again, and Tony felt so confused and his chest was aching, and he could barely reply to Angela’s scolding him for being out for so long.

He knew what this was. He knew this feeling _very_ well.

He didn’t expect to feel it toward someone like _him_ , though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for reading, comments are always appreciated! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, comments appreciated xoxoxoxox


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